


It matters that the words hold on

by blackkat



Series: Agen Kolar prompts [6]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27818956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “We’re getting acommander?” a loud voice asks, delighted as it carries through the trees.
Relationships: Agen Kolar & CT-7567 | Rex, Agen Kolar & Tan Yuster
Series: Agen Kolar prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941664
Comments: 27
Kudos: 578





	It matters that the words hold on

“We’re getting a _commander_?” a loud voice asks, delighted as it carries through the trees.

“Hey,” a man says, aggravated, and there's immediate laughter.

“ _Another_ commander,” the first man clarifies, but that doesn’t stop the amusement. It rings through the vast trunks in the darkness, and Agen raises a brow, glancing down. Tan looks back, and he’s grinning, looking entirely delighted even as he reaches out to hook his fingers in Agen's sash. It’s an old habit, formed as soon as Tan was tall enough to reach, but Agen hasn’t had the heart to discourage it. Particularly not after the arena.

“I believe we’re expected,” he says gravely, and Tan laughs, ducking under a dripping fern. The air is thin, given the altitude of the forest, but Agen can't see any sign that Tan is adjusting poorly, even though he’s been keeping a careful eye on his padawan.

“Not by the scouts,” Tan says, full of mischief, and Agen snorts in amusement, brushing his fingers lightly over feathery brown hair.

“No,” he allows. “Something to remind them of, perhaps. The 501st hasn’t had a Jedi leading them yet, so allowances must be made.”

Tan wrinkles his nose, glancing back towards the guards they passed. “We could have been Ventress,” he says. “Or Fett. They need a Jedi to keep them safe.”

So simple, in Tan’s eyes. And maybe it really is that simple, Agen allows. The 501st has been seeing all the worst battlefields of the war, and they need support. It’s the Jedi's duty to provide that, and save as many as they can.

“And now they have two,” he says, laying a hand on Tan’s shoulder. Tan leans into him for a moment, and Agen had been…hesitant, taking a Human padawan. Zabraks are solitary, after all, single-minded, given to forming small but tightly-knit groups more than large ones, and Agen had already had Mace, T'ra, Quinlan, Aayla. He hadn’t thought he would be a good fit.

As he’s done so many times before, Tan proved him wrong.

The sound of a scuffle is rising from the ring of light ahead of them, bright through the vast trunks, and Agen eyes it, then casts a glance down at Tan, finds him looking back with bright eyes. With a quiet snort, Agen leans down, cupping his hands, and without hesitation Tan gets a foot in them, grabs Agen's shoulder, and then leaps as Agen lifts. He turns a summersault in the air, drops neatly onto a wide branch, and vanishes into the shadows, and Agen keeps moving, stepping right up to the edge of the circle of firelight.

A handful of clones in blue-marked armor are there, and Agen takes a moment to pick out the ARCs. There are four that he can see, and he identifies the commander of the company by the jaig eyes on the helmet at his feet. The other three ARCs are scattered around the group, interspersed with regular troopers, and they look close. A squad, tested under fire, Agen thinks, and watches a trooper with medic patches wrestle with an ARC who has the symbol of the Republic tattooed across his shaved head.

Raising a hand, he raps his knuckles lightly against the closest tree trunk, and contains his amusement as all of them startle. In an instant the whole squad is on their feet, blasters coming up—

Dropping, swift and sheepish, as the commander takes two long steps forward.

“General!” he says, coming to attention. “I didn’t hear the report of your arrival, I'm sorry—”

Agen shakes his head, stepping forward into the light. “I crossed the perimeter without pausing to alert the sentries,” he says, and when the commander winces faintly, he raises a brow. “They were very intent.”

“On all the wrong things, apparently,” the commander says ruefully. “Sorry, sir. It won't happen again.”

Agen doesn’t watch the small shape in pale robes drop down behind them, doesn’t let a single facial muscle twitch as Tan rises and slips forward on soundless feet. “It won't?” he asks. “Tell me, Commander. Where is your helmet?”

The commander blinks, then turns towards his previous seat. “My helmet? It’s just—”

He freezes, and Tan gives him an impish smile, waving from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the log. “Hello, Commander,” he says politely.

One of the ARCs, with a five tattooed on his temple, snickers and waves back. “Hey, new Commander,” he says, clearly delighted. “You move like a loth-cat.”

Agen gives in and chuckles softly, stepping forward and then bowing as the clone commander quickly turns back to him. “I am Jedi Master Agen Kolar, and my padawan is Tan Yuster. It is an honor to meet and serve with you.”

Looking faintly flushed, the commander salutes quickly, then offers, “Commander Rex, sir. I guess the scouts aren’t the only ones who need to run some more drills.”

A trooper with parallel lines curving back over his skull and a rotary blaster held loose at his side gives a loud groan. “ _Commander_ ,” he complains.

“Shove it, Hardcase,” Rex retorts. He flicks another glance at Tan, then hesitates, and Agen feels something curl warm in his chest as he feels Rex's pause, his automatic worry. The clones are all incredibly kind, in his experience, and this meeting isn't looking to change that impression.

“Tan,” he says, and when Tan glances at him, he inclines his head. “Eat. Take a moment. I will see to things.”

“Yes, Master,” Tan says agreeably, and slides out of Rex's spot on the log. When Agen tosses him their pack, he catches it easily, and looks up to grin at the ARC with a handprint on his armor as the clone takes a seat next to him. The ARC with the five tattoo drops to the ground at their feet, grinning, and Tan smiles back, already leaning towards him.

Quietly, Agen tips his head at Rex and says, “I can feel your concern, Commander. For Tan?”

Rex hesitates, then grimaces faintly, rubbing a hand over his short blond hair. “I guess I just…didn’t realize how small he’d be,” he says, faintly apologetic.

Agen watches Tan, too, folded up on the log, robes rumpled, the beads in his padawan braid catching the light as the other troopers slide in closer to introduce themselves. It makes him think of the arena, and the blood-stained sand, and how if Stass had been a dozen more paces away she might not have reached Tan in time to save him. How if Mace hadn’t killed Dooku and then abandoned his fight with Jango Fett to guard Stass as she worked, she definitely wouldn’t have managed to heal him.

“Tan is very skilled,” he says quietly. “And very brave, and very wise. But yes, he is very young, as well.” He smiles, just faintly, as the medic ducks his head, letting Tan trace an inquisitive touch over the lightning bolts shaved into his hair. “We haven’t been with any troops before this, however, and I am very glad that we are no longer fighting alone.”

There's a pause, careful, and when Agen glances back at Rex, Rex is smiling.

“We’ll take care of him, General,” he promises. “And you, too.”

Agen snorts softly, tilting his head in thanks. “A mutual feeling, Commander,” he says, gentle, entirely heartfelt. “I look forward to it.”


End file.
